


Am I that good?

by beatriceHB



Series: All that glitters [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatriceHB/pseuds/beatriceHB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their stop-off in Tortuga, Flint plans a night alone with Billy. But others have determined to make an issue of their new relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I that good?

Their little boat picked its way through the murky water and suspicious flotsam, Flint wrinkled his nose and shared a look of distaste with Billy, who had taken the oars. At Billy’s pace they reached the battered jetty quickly, but once there stepped gingerly out, for fear that their combined weight might make it crumble.

“Welcome to Tortuga, isn’t it charming?” Flint set off towards the shore and Billy followed, looking about him in horror.

“It stinks like a ten-day-old corpse, and it looks worse. Is this what Nassau used to be like?”

“I suppose it was, although I don’t recall the men there ever being in quite this state of disrepair.” Flint paused to step over a drunk who lay prostrate on the beach, coated in sand and something more suspect. “Don’t worry, it gets better. Once we get inland a little way there’s a decent inn, somewhere the food won’t kill us or the rum send us blind.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, “I’ll take your word for it.”

This was their first night on dry land as, what, partners? If there was an appropriate word for their relationship, then Flint didn’t know it. But even though he hadn’t expected feather beds and harpsichord music, he would rather there hadn’t been quite so much shit.

“Do the men know where to go?”

Flint touched Billy’s arm fondly, reminded once again of his good nature. “Ours do, but as for Vane’s men, who knows? I imagine they’ll find enough on the shore to satisfy them.” He indicated a toothless whore, stretched out under a flimsy tent. 

“They’re not animals you know.”

Flint couldn’t bring himself to agree, and so settled for a shrug. “Let’s speed up” he said, picking up his own pace “the faster we get there, the sooner I can take a bath.”

Flint’s relationship with Billy brought him both joy and anxiety in equal measure. Like breathing in and breathing out, the two seemed inextricably linked. Waking up next to Billy’s warm body was a pleasure he still wasn’t used to. Even with a hand in his face or a knee in his back, he couldn’t imagine the feeling losing its charm. But as soon as he fully awoke, his worries would crowd in. 

He knew himself to be a man who made enemies easily, and it was clear to him that Billy was like a chink in his armour, a crack in the wall of his castle keep. Anyone wanting to get at Flint needn’t go to the effort of attacking the Captain himself. He could just attack Billy and achieve the same effect. This knowledge worked evilly on Flint, and hiding his fear became increasingly effortful.

Of course, Billy wasn’t some defenceless child. He could handle himself in a fight, had nearly bested Charles Vane (as he reminded Flint on a near daily basis) but even so. Billy was prepared for a fight that announced itself openly, one that approached from the front. That was the sort of man he was. But those weren’t the kind of fights that usually found Flint. No, he had knives pointed at his back, plots and schemes hatched in dark corners. It was already hard enough to protect himself against those, and from now on it would be twice as hard.

He wouldn’t deny Billy or be ashamed of their connection. But, at least beyond his own ship, he planned to avoid outward displays of affection. When he touched Billy he lost control of his face, and the tone of his voice, all the important building blocks of the persona he had created. It was best that as few people saw that as possible.

As they approached the inn, Flint felt his spirits rally briefly. It was well-kept, and its balconies were festooned with sweet smelling Wisteria. It was hard to imagine anything unpleasant happening here, but then there was always a first time. The innkeep knew him on sight, and motioned him up to her best room, with only a quick curious glance at Billy.

“Are you coming?” Billy turned around, noticing that Flint had paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“In a moment. You go and get the bath filled, I see someone I have business with. It won’t take a minute.”

When Billy had disappeared from view, Flint looked again at what had really grabbed his attention. At the bar, a knot of three brutish looking men were laughing. Something about the look of them, and the texture of the laughing, set alarm bells ringing along his spine. He retreated into a shadowy spot to get a better look, and then cursed inwardly when he recognised them as Vane’s men. How in Christ had they made it this far inland already? 

With the dreadful feeling that he was reliving a moment from his past, Flint approached the bar and caught the attention of the serving girl. “Rum, your best.”

The nearest man, he was scrawny and ratty haired, turned to look at Flint. His mouth curled in a leer. Flint acknowledged him with a curt nod, and looked away. The scrawny man whispered something to his friends and they all laughed again, more nastily this time. 

Flint sighed, and stared into the inky depths of the flagon of rum set down in front of him. He was tired and had no energy for this. But it was best to draw the poison now, rather than leave these men to fester down here whilst he slept. He might wake with a knife to his throat. To both their throats.

“Is there a problem?”

The scrawny man, looked over at Flint, the way a fox looks at a rabbit. “No, no problem. We was just wonderin’ somethin’.”

“Wondering what?”

“Yer whore, what’s his name? Bones is it?”

Flint felt his anger starting to rise, the familiar heat beginning to flood across his chest and down to his fists like a surging tide. Blood pounded in his ears.

“We was wonderin’ how many of the others he does. I mean, is it just you as gets to use ‘im or can anyone have a go?” The man staggered towards Flint, waving a finger in his face “I’ve got a bit of silver saved up see, and I quite fancy ‘avin a crack at him m’self.”

Flint was briefly aware of their three stupid grinning faces, before the rage came up white hot, and the space behind his eyes turned red. He squeezed his teeth together and rushed at the first man. The scrawny thing dodged well, but Flint caught him by the hair and followed through with a heavy punch to the chest. The impact vibrated right up his arm, warming every joint. The scrawny man jumped away, tried to land punches of his own but Flint was warming to his task and deflected each blow with agility. His breath came faster now, and his lips curled into a fighting snarl. He let the shame and the anxiety fuel his anger, let it burn away his reason.

His opponent was starting to panic, running to the bar, fingers scrabbling for a bottle or glass to use as a weapon. Flint bellowed, and rushed at him again, no thoughts in his mind except the need to tear this man apart. His next blow caught the scrawny man full in the face, and sent him staggering into the tables and chairs, and down onto the floor. Then Flint was on top of him, raining blows, knocking him left and right until there was no resistance, nothing firm for his fists to connect with. Punches became splashes, spattering Flint up to his elbows in blood and gore.

When the rage finally began to subside, he realised he was shaking and could taste blood in his own mouth. He stood up and spun around, aware that there had been two other men, the scrawny man’s comrades. He found them transfixed and rooted to the spot, looking with horror at what remained of their friend. Not stupid enough to come to his aid.

“I trust this settles the matter” Flint said, his voice rough and vicious “or is anyone still wondering?”

The men didn’t manage to speak, but shook their heads. Flint stalked back to the bar, wiping blood off his fists as he went. He found the flagon of rum still there, and brought it to his lips. The mixture of blood and rum in his mouth tasted like triumph. After several burning gulps he set it down and looked around him. The bar had mysteriously cleared, and Billy was looking down at him from the balcony. 

“I think I can guess what kind of business that was.” 

There was something gently admonishing about his tone. At once Flint felt a little less triumphant, and a tad regretful of the wet, red shape quietly oozing on the floor behind him.

“Come on, if you needed a bath before, you need one badly now.” Billy stretched out his hand to call Flint up, and the Captain followed gladly, wanting suddenly to get far away from this madness.

“We’ll make good your losses” Billy called down to the innkeep, “but make sure we’re the only people here tonight. And get rid of that” indicating the corpse on the floor. Then he nudged Flint into their room and closed their door on the world.

Inside was a bed, a wash stand, and a huge bath, full to the brim with steaming and sweetly scented water. Flint let Billy peel his clothes off, and then stepped into the tub. It was so hot it hurt, and made the new cuts on his hands sting. He rinsed his face, and Billy helped him sponge off the blood where it had begun to dry and stick in his hair. After a short soak, his body was recognisable as his own, brown from the sun and spattered with freckles, rather than brown with grime and spattered with blood. When he was done, he climbed out and stood naked just back from the window, where the sun could dry him. He heard a splash as Billy took his turn in the water.

“Sorry, you really should have got in first.”

“I won’t make the same mistake again, this water looks like wine.”

Flint chuckled, but the sound was without any mirth. 

They passed a few minutes in silence, until Billy finally broke the seal, “so are we going to discuss what all that was about?”

Flint set his jaw “the man’s mouth ran away with him. You know I can’t have my authority questioned.”

Billy let out a long breath. “Let me guess, did he say I was a little slag? That he’d had me himself this morning? That I begged him for it?”

Flint turned to look at him and frowned, “you make it sound like nothing. It’s not nothing” he was raising his voice, “it’s… if people think they can talk to me like that, what the fuck do they try next?”

Billy leaned back, resting his muscled forearms on the sides of the bath. “I’m not saying it’s nothing, but there are other ways of dealing with it. I’ve been dealing with it, since Charleston. Somehow without causing any deaths.”

“Huh.” Flint threw himself on the bed, horribly aware that he looked like a petulant teenager sulking after a gentle telling off. None of this was going the way he wanted.

“At the very least, you need to stop defending my honour like some kind of medieval knight. It will only make them worse, the weasels that hate us both.”

Flint rubbed his temples, he knew Billy was right. “Part of me wants a fight to be the answer, always.” He shook his head. “Tonight was supposed to be about drinking and laughing, and fucking” he glanced up meaningfully, “not this.”

“There’s still time for fucking.” Billy’s face had broken into a half smile.

Flint laughed properly this time “well thank god for that.”

“And don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the fighting. Maybe almost as much.” 

Flint stroked his fingers through his beard, absent-mindedly. It was uncomfortably close to the truth. 

Billy climbed out and towelled himself dry, watching Flint as he did so. Flint stared at him openly, drinking him in as he’d done many times now. Smooth, tanned skin, rippled all over with muscle, everything hard and taught. Blood began rushing to his cock, warming it and making it swell.

The power of Flint’s gaze drew Billy to him, like a fiercely burning star pulling him into its orbit. The bed sank down under the younger man’s weight, he straddled Flint’s hips and ran his fingertips over the Captain’s firm, freckled skin. 

“I can take my time over you” he said, “for once”. He watched Flint’s cock twitch up towards him, straining out for the touch it craved. “You do deserve some kind of reward for your efforts downstairs.”

Flint gave him a sideways look, “I thought you didn’t want me defending your honour?”

Billy made a noncommittal noise, “I said you needed to stop doing it” his fingers continued their motions, now just brushing against the root of Flint’s stiffening erection, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.”

Suddenly full of happiness, Flint found Billy’s hand and held it, trying to communicate without words. Could Billy really witness that fight and find something positive in it? Flint knew his tendency to violent rage was weakness, nothing more, but if Billy thought well of him he didn’t care. Words burst out that surprised him. 

“That part of myself, I didn’t think anyone could care for it.”

Billy gazed into his eyes for the longest time, then he leaned forwards over Flint’s upper body, holding himself up on strong arms. He stared longingly at Flint’s lips, his own were parted wide.

“I must be pretty fucked up then, Captain.” 

Flint tilted his chin up to meet Billy’s mouth on its downward descent. Their lips connected with a sensation that Flint felt all over his body, Billy taking the Captain’s lower lip into his mouth and nipping it gently, possessively. The pain of his teeth in the soft flesh was exquisite. Flint’s hands reached up to touch Billy’s face, needing more kisses, not ready for his mouth to pull away. 

Billy was the first to slip his tongue inside, and Flint opened for it obediently, loving how forceful and urgent it was. He made no attempt to reciprocate, enjoying the power of Billy’s upper body bearing down on him, wanting to give in to him, to take his lead.

Finally Billy pulled his face up and away, his breath coming faster now, and began to inch his way down Flint’s body, pulling at his flesh with powerful kisses, marking and bruising the skin as he went. First tracing a line from Flint’s ear to his collarbone, then across the firm contours of his chest, and finally leaving a shimmering, wet trail down the muscles of his abdomen. Each touch of the younger man’s mouth set Flint’s erection on fire with white heat, its tip glistening with the first drops of arousal.

“Do I have your leave?” Billy said, teasingly, flicking his eyes down to his lover’s cock, which pulsed in anticipation.

“God yes.” Flint shut his eyes, and raised his arms over his head, catching hold of the headboard behind him. He wanted to grip the back of Billy’s neck, but couldn’t trust himself to do it gently, it was best his hands kept out of it entirely.

The first thing he felt was the ticklish point of Billy’s tongue, swirling round the tip of his cock. Then soft lips slipped over the head, tonguing and kissing, and sucking him in deeper, making Flint moan through his teeth. Why had he never felt much sensation from this act before? The more often they fucked, Billy seemed to find new sensitivity, as if he were gradually peeling away layers. Flint half-opened his eyes, just to see the expression on Billy’s face as he worked. It was something akin to worship, and it made Flint’s head fill with lust and gratitude. 

The pleasure was so intense now, waves of it starting at the base of his cock and washing over his spine, buttocks and thighs. His hands clenched tight against the wooden board, and his breath caught in his chest.

“No you don’t” Billy said, taking his mouth away and leaving Flint quivering and wet. “Not yet.”

Flint let out a long, tortured breath. “You absolute shit.”

“Be quiet, you love it.” 

Billy had such confidence about him these past few days, he seemed to relish taking liberties with Flint, now that they were close. It was a bit thrilling. 

Flint played along “I think I preferred it when you were scared of me.”

“If I was scared of you, I probably wouldn’t do this.”

Billy popped his index finger into his mouth, and sucked on it with an expression that made Flint want to slap him, and then kiss him. Then with a mischievous grin, he slipped his hand down under Flint’s body, found the Captain’s unsuspecting hole, and pushed his finger right inside in one swift motion.

“Huh!” Flint momentarily lost the power of speech. The moistness from Billy’s mouth eased its passage somewhat, but the surprise still made him clench up tight.

“Easy” Billy said, smiling “I know what I’m doing.”

That made Flint’s stomach tingle with hurt. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone else had seen his boy like this. His boy, damn it. His jealousy intensified the sensation in his cock, for reasons he couldn’t really understand, and didn’t want to examine. He chose to keep his mouth shut, rather than risk spouting some possessive nonsense. Inside him, Billy’s finger was making slow circles, opening him up and easing the tightness away. Then an almost unbearable jolt of pleasure hit him, and made cry out. 

“Oh god!”

It started somewhere deep, where Billy’s fingertip had hit its mark, and spread out in waves. In the midst of it, he could just sense Billy’s lips connecting with his cock again, swallowing his full length, and sucking with such force and enthusiasm. Flint’s breath caught in his chest again, he felt like he was suffocating but didn’t care, just wanted to pump and pump into Billy’s mouth, just empty his balls into that beautiful throat. At his peak he opened his eyes, watched his shaft pulsing and Billy’s mouth cradling it tight. The moment seemed to last impossibly long.

When it was all out, Billy swirled his tongue around to clean up every last drop, then licked his lips. Flint knew he would see that sight again in his dreams, and get hard just at the memory of it. He hadn’t come like that, for as long as he could remember.

“You’re shaking” Billy said, and Flint realised that he was. Billy lay down next to him and held him tight, causing desperate emotions to course through his blood. Flint realised with a shock that he could never give the boy up, not now. He’d lost too much already, his damaged heart couldn’t suffer another blow. For better or worse his fate was bound up with Billy, and he’d leave a trail of dead a mile long in his wake, if that’s what it took to protect him.

As if by some telepathy, Billy seemed to hear and understand him. He put a warm, callused hand on Flint’s chest, where his heart was still beating rapidly, as if to reassure it. Flint put his own hand over it, to hold it there, and the feeling of peace it gave him was the last thing he noticed before sleep took him.

Later, he wasn’t sure how much later, Flint gradually began to wake up. He could feel a hard body grinding against his back, and a rigid shaft poking between his thighs. Billy’s hand slipped over Flint’s hip and down to his cock, feeling for a reaction.

Flint sighed, hating to disappoint “I’m not going to get hard again for a good hour, not after what you just did to me.”

Billy nipped his shoulder with his teeth, and Flint could feel the boy’s mouth smiling against him “am I that good?”

Flint peered at him over his shoulder, affectionately “yes, apparently you are.”

It only seemed to make Billy’s eagerness the stronger. The pace and force of his grinding increased, and his breath was hot and fast against the back of Flint’s neck. “I need you” he whispered, “I need you now.”

Excited by Billy’s desperation, Flint reached his hand around behind him and grabbed Billy’s thigh, pulling him in closer. Encouraging him on.

“Where’s the oil Captain?”

“Pocket of my jacket. Over there in the corner.” Flint pointed to the red mess of his clothes, on the other side of the room.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can stop doing this.” Billy was biting his neck now, and holding Flint’s upper arms so tight they were bound to bruise “I don’t think I can let you go”. He hooked a leg over Flint’s body, pinning him down. 

This desperate need for him was intoxicating to Flint. The urge to surrender to it was too great. He gave in.

“I think I can take you without, if you start slowly.”

Billy let out a long, shuddering breath, and rolled Flint over onto his stomach, crushing him under his own body. 

“I’ll try to start slowly, but I can’t promise.”

Flint’s face was crushed into a mound of hard pillows, he had to turn his head to breathe. 

Billy bit his ear and whispered into it “say you want me.”

“I do, you know I do.” He felt the head of Billy’s huge hard cock pushing against him, forcing him apart. It was as if he didn’t have a choice now. Maybe he didn’t.

Billy nestled his face into the nape of Flint’s neck “I love you, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you so much right now.” He twined his fingers in Flint’s hair, gripped it tight, and pulled the Captain’s head back sharply. Then he plunged inside him with such force it did hurt. A lot. Flint tried not to cry out, and made a strangled sound in his throat.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Billy held still, his cock buried inside. “God you’re so tight.” 

After a moment he began easing in and out, with little bounces more than thrusts. Gradually Flint felt the pain turn to heat, and then a pleasant fullness. He was still tender inside from his climax earlier, but he was keen to give Billy what he wanted, to let him work out whatever this was. He knew what it was like to be that young, and so in need of your lover. 

Billy locked an arm around Flint’s chest and pulled him up onto all fours, Flint’s arse cradled in his lap.

“Hold on to something.” 

Flint obeyed, reaching out for the headboard once again, this time to brace himself.

The onslaught came quickly, taking his breath away. Flint could hear the obscene slap of their skin as Billy pounded into him hard. It was almost frightening, the force of his need. It was all Flint could do to keep himself braced against it, and stop his face crashing into the wall with every thrust.

“Say you love me. Please say it.”

Flint’s face and neck flushed red, it was almost too much. But with each rise and fall of their bodies as they fell into a violent rhythm, he wondered, what did it matter? Why pretend anything anymore?

“I do, I love you.”

“Louder. Shit, say it like you mean it!”

“I love you, I love you!” His voice sounded angry, it wasn’t how those words should be said. But then nothing about this relationship was how it ought to be. It was like madness, and he knew he was giving in to it. They must look bestial like this, fucking like dogs.

Billy increased his pace, and his power. Every thrust knocked the air out of Flint’s chest, and made him shout out. He’d no idea what crap he was saying.

Billy jolted suddenly, “Ah, fuck!” 

He had reached his peak so fast, and Flint felt insanely proud to be the cause of it. He could feel every pulse of Billy’s cock inside him, stiff as the barrel of a gun, jerking up and down. 

“That’s it, fill me up. Oh god it feels good.”

He felt a shiver travel the length of billy’s body, as the last of the younger man’s climax spurted out of him. Then they gently slid down into the bed, Flint lying on his side with Billy curled around him. Every inch of Billy felt damp, the boy’s chest was still heaving but his breath had begun to slow. 

After a few minutes, Billy’s cock eased out of him and it seemed possible to speak normally again. Flint felt Billy’s hand sweep the hair back from where it had fallen across his face, and tuck it tenderly behind his ear. 

“I’m sorry I went so hard at you, did it hurt?” His voice was full of concern.

“No” Flint lied. 

In truth, he was glowing with pleasure at the thought he’d created such an animal desire in Billy. A little physical pain was as nothing next to the glorious boost to his ego.

“I never want to hurt you.”

“I know.” Flint turned around to face Billy, and leaned into him so their foreheads pressed together. 

He wanted to stay there forever, but he had to keep his head on straight. There was so much to do tomorrow, so much still at stake. He took the boy’s hand and squeezed it “If I lay here much longer, I’m going to fall asleep, and then so will you. But we need to get up, and we need to eat.”

Billy kissed him, trying to quiet him “I don’t need to eat, I just want to lay here with you.”

Flint smiled, “then as your Captain, I’m ordering you to eat. No!” He put his finger to Billy’s lips to stop him interjecting again. “You need to stay strong, this is the first chance of a decent meal we’ve had in weeks. Come on,” he knelt up, wincing slightly, and put his hand out to pull Billy up after him. “No more complaints or I’ll have you flogged.”

Billy laughed. “You know, there was a time when even the thought of you saying that would have made me so scared.” 

“You’re moving though aren’t you?” And Billy was. He stretched and went looking for his clothes, began pulling them on. Flint started doing the same, and then realised his clothes were ruined with blood. The events of the afternoon came back to him vividly, as did all of his anxieties.

“Shit.”

Billy looked around, “oh, right.”

“It’s easy to remedy” Flint rubbed his forehead, trying to massage the sense back into it “my crates should be here by now. I told a couple of the crew to bring them. There are shirts in there, along with all the books. Go and check downstairs for me.”

“Alright,” Billy strolled to the door, opened it, and then recoiled as if he’d been shot, his eyes wide. 

Flint’s head spun round, expecting something dreadful. But instead he saw Charles Vane, leaning sleazily in the doorway. 

Vane smirked and looked him up and down, “not bad for your age,” he growled. 

Flint rolled his eyes, and breathed out. It could have been worse. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Scare you did I?”

Flint answered him with a look of contempt. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” The smirk became a languid grin. 

Flint stood foursquare, and stared Vane down. He wasn’t about to rush and cover himself like some blushing society lady.

“What do you want?”

“What are you offering?”

Flint scanned Vane’s face for a clue as to what was happening here. He was a difficult man to read, but Flint could have sworn there was something slightly off. Not in his face though. Was it his posture? The silence between them crackled with something unsaid, a hidden agenda. Flint wondered if he could just catch at it…

“What do you want?” he said again, more slowly this time, loading each word with as much meaning as it could bear.

Charles Vane stayed quiet, and Flint felt Billy’s eyes flicking back and forth between them, big anxious circles again. He thought he might finally have an inkling.

“Whilst you think about it,” he said, turning back towards the bed, “you might at least come in and close the door behind you.”


End file.
